My Life in the Little Brown House, part 3: Kitchen

At the northeasterly corner of the kitchen there were three doors close together. The door to the left led to a room that was a bedroom when I was a young child, later it became sort of a playroom or den — like a forerunner of the “rumpus” room of more modern orientation. Directly ahead was the door to the bathroom and to the right was the door to the dining room. On the east wall of the kitchen there was first a small open space that was later occupied by a playpen constructed by my grandfather and which was used for Vincent when he was small. This playpen was more solidly constructed than playpens of the present day; it was also non-collapsible. The pen was perhaps 30" x 48" in floor area; the bottom was sort of a shallow box with sides maybe 8" high, constructed of 1" (nominal thickness) boards. Surmounting these sides was a railing maybe 18"–24" tall with spokes spaced about 4" apart with a connecting ring at the top of the spokes. I can recall my grandfather making the playpen, I think at the little wood shop he had in the outbuilding at his home. My great-grandfather Strand had some training or experience in carpentry and this skill had been taught to my grandfather. As I watched my grandfather making the playpen, my youthful impatience showed itself and I wanted him to proceed faster. His answer was that the spokes must be planed and smoothed (he was in the process of doing that) before the pen could be assembled. I can also recall him sharpening some of his tools on the sandstone he had for this purpose. The sandstone was a wheel about 2" wide, mounted on a horizontal axis and it could be caused to turn by a foot-pedal arrangement, while the operator held the tool edge to be sharpened against the rotating stone. Above the stone there was a small can with a little hole in the bottom to drip on the sandstone for lubrication. The carpentry skill my grandfather had was not transmitted to my father. Though my father did use a saw and hammer on occasion his work was nowhere of the quality that my grandfather was capable of.






















Foot-powered sandstone grinder

The small nook where Vincent’s playpen stood was later converted into a low cupboard and still later on the top of this waist-high cupboard was used for a two- or three-burner gas plate. When I was perhaps 8 or 10 years old, natural gas service came to Gowrie and my mother had this gas plate installed. I think this was the only gas appliance installed — the cookstove remained a unit fired by corncobs and coal, as was the furnace also. Next to the playpen or gas plate area was the chimney and beyond the chimney was the stove, completing the circuit around the room. The cookstove was black with shiny (chrome) trim; the main structure was either cast iron or sheet iron. The firebox was on the left, the burning gas circulated from the firebox across the top of the oven (next to the firebox on the right), thence around the oven and from there to the vent to the chimney. The top of the stove had removable round plates so that cooking pots could have their bottoms directly in contact with the hot gases. Above the cooking area of the stove were two compartments in which food after being cooked could be kept warm (so-called warming ovens), The floor covering in the kitchen was linoleum, I think it was wall to wall but of this I am not certain.

My Life in the Little Brown House, part 2: Kitchen and Sun Room

The kitchen and the sun room were the most “lived-in” rooms of the little brown house. There was a large open archway between the two rooms. Deep down in me I have a vague memory that the kitchen ended as a blank wall where the archway was — whether this was something I really remembered from when I was a very small infant and before the sun room was constructed I don’t know. Right adjacent to the sun room, on the west wall of the kitchen, a door led to the stairs leading down to the landing that led in turn to the back door. Along the sides of the landing were coat hooks for hanging up coats, caps, etc. At one end there was a small low cupboard where rubbers, overshoes, etc. were stores. My father also used the landing as a place to put on or take off the coveralls he used while milking the cow and tending to the chickens, morning and evening. Just outside the door from the kitchen, at the top of the stairs there was a cupboard that I believe my mother used for storing various kitchen items.














Main floor plan of little brown house

Just to the right of the door from the kitchen stood my mother’s kitchen cabinet, a movable unit that served multiple purposes. On its left end was a flour storage unit that was large enough to hold a whole sack of flour. I’d guess that a flour sack might hold 40 to 50 pounds of flour. The cabinet had a mechanism for lowering the storage bin (which was relatively tall compared to its cross-section) at the same time as stretching a couple of springs that eased the raising of the bin back into its usual position. At the bottom of the bin was a little sifter for use when taking flour from the bin. The rest of the upper half of the cabinet provided storage for dishes (china) and for other materials such as sugar and spices used in cooking. The bottom part of the cabinet was for storage of pots and pans, etc. The kitchen cabinet was similar to the one in my grandmother Peterson’s kitchen, but it was an item lacking in the kitchen at my grandfather Strand’s home. To the right of the kitchen cabinet was the sink and drainboard. The dishes were usually washed by my mother in my earlier years; later on washing and wiping became the province of my sisters, though I recall wiping dishes on occasion. I think my mother readily ceded the task of washing dishes to my sisters — my grandmother on the other hand kept the function for herself virtually all her life. The north wall of the kitchen was taken up by cupboards, both high and low and on the right end of these cupboards was the telephone. All during my childhood the telephone was the old-fashioned type, with a cabinet made of wood; the mouthpiece on the front could be tilted up or down to suit the height of the user (who stood as he or she used the phone). The earpiece hung on a hook on the side of the wooden box; taking off the earpiece from the hook actuated the phone. In the town of Gowrie, use of the phone was made by ringing (using the little crank on the side opposite from where the earpiece was hung); when the operator answered, the appropriate number was given her and she made the connection to the desired person. When the call was finished there was supposed to be a “ring-off” ring to alert the operator that the call was finished and she would make the disconnect. When we were on the party line after we moved to the farm, calls to phones in town or other country lines were made through the “central” in Gowrie and her attention was generated by a single ring. Calls on the party line were made by a combination of short and long rings — each user having his or her own specific combination. The calls could of course be listened in on by anyone on the party line; this “rubbering” in was a fairly common practice, oftentimes as a matter of neighborly concern or interest.




















Hand-cranked telephone

My mother had the practice of calling my grandmother once a day to discuss the day’s doings and these calls might last for 5 to 15 minutes (my impression). Usually these would be made in the latter part of the morning I seem to recall. But of course there were other times of telephone communication between the two residences as well.

My Life in the Little Brown House, part 1

Most of the years of my life until I had finished the seventh grade in school were spent with the little brown house as my home. I say most of the years inasmuch the first year or so was spent in a house rented by my parents and situated several houses directly west of where my grandparents Strand lived at the time. I have no recollection of course of living in that house, nor do I know just when my parents purchased the little brown house and moved the family into it. At one time I could locate the house where I spent my first year, but I’m not sure I could pick it out now. Somewhere in the picture albums that I seem to have accumulated over the years there is a photo of a group of small children seated on the porch steps of a house. One of the children looks like my sister Clarice at the age of two or so, and the children may have been seated at my first abode. I was born in that house — my mother gave birth to all her children at home except for Marold.

The little brown house was a simpler structure when my parents purchased it than when I first became aware of its features. Originally it did not have what my parents called the sunroom, which was adjacent to the kitchen and which served as the everyday eating area, amongst other uses. This was added before I would recollect the change; the barn also was built before my time of awareness. I do recall dimly the advent of the chicken house and I have well-formed recollections of the playhouse being built, and of the addition of the two dormers to the house which connected the original attic into the two upstairs bedrooms. I think the house when my parents acquired it was painted white, like most of the houses in the town or on the farms of the area. But even the earliest pictures I have of it have it brown with white trim. I can vaguely recall feeling slightly “put upon” living in a house which differed from most of the rest of the community. My father, in addition to his job at the bank, had a bookkeeping job at the Johnson Lumber Co. and he used the proceeds from the second job to pay for the additions to the little brown house, the barn and other buildings.













Early picture of the little brown house (after addition of sunroom)

The Barn, part 2 of 2

The hay stored in the barn in my experience was always alfalfa but I suppose during the time the barn had been in use other kinds of hay — clovers, grasses, etc. — might have been stored. Depending on when the alfalfa was cut it might be coarser or finer in texture, and the leaves on the hay stalks may have fallen off to a greater or lesser degree. I recall feeling that the stock preferred the finer texture alfalfa, but I’m not sure now but what it made no difference to them.

Alongside the haymow on either side ran an aisle which was used to transport hay thrown down or out from the hay mow, either to the horse mangers on the south side of the barn or the lower cow manger on the north side. Both sides had been modified from the original construction. Originally on the south side of the barn there had been nine horse stalls. When we arrived on the farm one stall partition had been entirely removed. These two stalls as well as the next one, plus the area behind the back end of the stalls and the south edge of the barn had been converted into apen in which calves were kept during their early months. The remaining six stalls were used partly for the two horses still on the farm (Barney and Birdie) and for 4 cows. The mangers were really too high for cows but they managed to get the hay from them fairly well. Perhaps couple had the top manger board removed to make them more suitable for cattle. The horse mangers were fairly deep — maybe as much as 4 feet. At one end of the manger was a small raised portion to which any grain (such as oats) for the horses would be placed. Oats was the preferred grain feed for horses, but occasionally corn ears would be given them. Uncle Carl prescribed grain for the horses only when they were being actively used. The floors of the hors stalls were heavy wooden planks but behind the stalls the space to the south wall of the barn was simply dirt. There was a distance of perhaps 8 to 10 feet behind the stalls, with the stalls being about 8 feet long and 5–6 feet wide. There were three doors to the horse side of the barn — one at each end at the corner and one in the center of the south side. As I recall there may have been a couple of small windows. Above the stalls and the space behind them was a sort of loft where straw could be stored for bedding. After the bedding had been used it was simply tossed out of the east door, to be later hauled away as manure. There was a door to the straw loft, at loft level on the west end of the barn.

The north side of the barn, which was originally devoted entirely to cattle, was symmetrical with the south side except there were no stalls and the manger was lower and continuous from the west to the east side of the barn. However this side also had been modified. The west end of the aisle along the haymow had been converted to a little oats storage bin. This was the oats that was used to feed the horses when appropriate. Also about the west 1/3 of the original cattle side has been converted to machinery storage, or storage for miscellaneous junk. It was here that Uncle Carl kept his potato digger when it was not in use.



















Potato digger

The north side of the barn was usually shut off to the cows during the late spring, summer and early fall months. During the rest of the year it was used as a place to feel the cattle cornstalks when there was insufficient gleanings for them in any pasture areas or the corn stubble. The cornstalks had been cut, with the ears still attached when they were still somewhat immature. The cutting was done by the corn binder which bound the stalks and ears in a bundle perhaps a foot in diameter. As I recall Uncle Carl had us remove at least some of the ears or corn before we fed the silage to the cows (in the low manger on the north side of the barn). I suppose that at some time the milking of the cows was done on the north side of the barn but this practice had long ceased by the time we were on the farm.












Corn binder

The farm had one additional feature — a low feeding manger on the east side of the barn. This could be charged with hay from the aisle along the south side of the haymow. I can’t remember now whether it was used to feel the cows or the horses, at any rate it was seldom used.

When we moved onto the farm in the early mid-thirties, the outbuildings had all been recently painted so they had a good appearance, even though some of them, particularly the old granary, weren’t in too good structural shape. I doubt that they were ever again painted. After the farm was sold in the late 1950s, the buildings all deteriorated and I don’t think the new owner ever used the barn for much of anything. Eventually he tore down and razed all the buildings except for the chicken house which I think was still standing in 1988. The only other remaining item was the lower well, whether it was functional or not then I’ve no idea. So the barn became but a memory in the minds of a few people like myself, and no record of it remains except for a few photographs.

The Barn, part 1 of 2

When our family moved onto the Peterson farmstead during the Depression years, the barn was still in useful shape and in reasonably good condition, but it must have 30 to 40 years old and it was certainly showing its age. It had been constructed on a foundation of rocks, which doubtless had been recovered from the cultivated areas of the farm. These rocks may have been on the surface as the result of cultivation and the alternate freezing and thawing of the ground. That considerable time had passed since the accumulated rocks were used for the foundation is indicated by the further pile which now existed in the middle of the hog lot, and which presumably would have been used had they been available. During the time we were on the farm I recollect at least one addition of a large rock to this pile. It was a stone that Uncle Carl’s plow ran into when he was plowing on the south 40 and it may have been that one of the ploughshares was damaged. I can remember him dragging it in from the field behind one of his small Hart Parr tractors. He had doubtless dug it out so he could attach the heavy chain to it that he was using. Several years ago a similar occurrence occurred on the south side of the old Joe Johnson farm that we purchased in 1960. Ole Olson, who rented the land from us at the time, pulled the rock into the ditch where Jean Strand took a picture of it and sent it to us.

The rock foundation of the barn was certainly a utilitarian use of these recovered native rocks but they were not as good a foundation as one of reinforced concrete. Most of the barn was reasonably plumb but at the southeast corner of the structure the land sloped slightly away from the barn and the sill, and the structure above it had slumped out of level. Further the rock foundation sis not project much above the surface of the ground, indeed the wooden sills may actually have rested simply on the soil in places. Thus the sills would have been subject to rotting, thought not in Iowa to termite attack. Midwestern winters are cold enough so that the ground is frozen for several feet, and this cold ensures against the survival of such insects as termites.

The symmetric axis of the barn is oriented east and west — actually the barn was not exactly symmetrical as the north side of the barn was originally designed for cattle while the south side was made for horses. But the basic structure, except for these adaptations specific for cattle or horses, was symmetrical.

The center of the barn was the haymow, which extended from ground level to at least the level of the bottom of the large hay door. This door was located at the top of the barn on the west. It opened and closed by sliding up and down on two vertical tracks along each side of the door. I suppose it was counterweighted to facilitate its opening and closing and to keep it static in whatever position it was placed after raising or lowering, but I don’t remember any details about this feature. Along the very top of the barn ran the hay track along which the hay carrier ran. In filling the barn with hay, the hayrack would be pulled alongside the barn. The hay carrier would be pulled into a locked position at the extreme western end of the hay track. The hay rope would at one end be attached to the hay track at the far east end of the track. From this position it would loop back to the far west end, then down to the hayrack. Here it would be threaded through a pulley that was in turn attached to the sling containing the hay and which lay horizontally in the hayrack. From the pulley it would rise to the hay carrier that ran along the top of the barn, back to the east end of the barn and thence by means of several pulleys through the aisle along the haymow on the south, out a door and to a position where a team of horses could be attached to it to raise the sling first to the hay carrier where a trip mechanism would then allow the carrier to move along the hay track. The hay carrier could then be pulled by the horses by means of the hay rope back into the barn, riding on the hay track to the position in the barn where it was desired to place the hay. The sling could be “tripped” at the middle by means of the trip rope which trailed along as the sling rode into and back into the barn. The sling would come apart and the hay would fall into the mow. I indicated earlier that the level of hay in the mow would be at the most at the bottom of the hay door. Actually it could be higher as the barn was progressively filled from the east end to the west end.






















Hay carrier


I don’t specifically remember a time when the haymow was full of hay to the extent it would be possible to fill it. But I’m sure that when the farm was fully stocked with cows and horses it would have been necessary to have it full of hay to make it through the winter. When hay is put in the barn it has been dried by lying in the field to the degree of dryness where it can be safely stored. It it is put into the barn too wet it will ferment, with the associated evolution of heat. Under extreme conditions the heat evolved can be sufficient to raise the temperature of any surrounding relatively dry hay that it will auto-ignite. The resulting conflagration has burned down more than one barn. I can remember while moving hay in the mow noticing that the hay lower down was indeed warm to the touch. I called the attention of Uncle Carl to this condition (perhaps I had been warned to be on the alert for such a condition) and he inspected the hay. He decided that the condition was not a worrisome one, and indeed nothing transpired, but I worried about it afterward for awhile until I was reassured by the passage of time that no fire was likely to ensue.

Barney and Birdie, part 5 of 5

It was during oat threshing that Barney died. It was during the time when I was acting as a bundle hauler all by myself — I suppose I could have been 16 years old or so. He had been acting strangely the evening before but he had been hitched up for work in the usual fashion. The threshing was being done that day at the Peterson farm, so the threshing run was close to its conclusion (Uncle Carl would normally thresh his own oats last). For some reason the threshing machine was oriented in a rather unusual way in the barnyard so that the bundle racks proceeded through a seldom-used gate near the southeast corner of the barn. The land sloped away from the barn at this location, not sharply by significantly. As I was driving the fully loaded rather top-heavy bundle rack through the gate, Barney paused, causing Birdie to stop also. I think it was because of the illness he was experiencing. Anyway, the pause and the slope of the ground was just enough to let the rack slowly top over. What this meant was that the superstructure and the load of the rack detached from the carriage and this is what tipped over. I, of course, followed the load over onto its side. That evening after being let out of the barn for the night, Barney ran ceaselessly from one end of the barnyard to the other end and when I went out to bring the horses into the barn for the day’s work he was nowhere to be found. During the night he had broken out of the yard, run down the road about half a mile west, broke into a cornfield and after breaking down a significant number of corn stalks, expired. The damage he did in the cornfield was sufficient so that Uncle Carl needed to recompense the farmer whose field it was. For the remainder of the threshing run, Uncle Carl arranged for another old nag, I think from our neighbor at the time Carl Anderson (father of Harlan). This aged horse, sort of mixed bay and white in color, was a poor substitute for Barney. As was also the horse Uncle Carl acquired to take his place permanently. This was old Bird, previously owned by Vic Telleen, our neighbor to the east. The final conclusion was that Barney had contracted sleeping sickness (encephalitis) which as a disease afflicting horses at that particular time. I was sorry to see Barney go — I felt he was a good worked and well more than half the motive power of the team. Birdie and Bird were a poor substitute. It was not too long after that year that the threshing run ceased to function and I have little recollection of driving Bird and Birdie (though I do remember the difficulty I always had in getting Bird to take the bit when I was bridling her).

Birdie lived on for some time. Then during some wintertime when she was out in the barnyard and the ground was icy or slippery she fell over and couldn’t get up. My recollection is that the place where she fell was just outside a double gate opening into the house yard. This was an area in the barnyard where the horses were not allowed normally and I can recall no reason for her being there. It was during the part of the winter when there was no farm work to be done and Uncle Carl was not coming out to the farm at all. I, or my mother, telephoned into him at Grandmother’s and he came out to review the situation. The decision was that she was too old and feeble to be rescued from her predicament, so she was dispatched. Whether the veterinarian administered the coup de grace, or whether it was the employee of the rendering works to which her remains were consigned that disposed of her I don’t recall. So ended my association with Barney and Birdie, and so also did the era of horse-drawn agriculture on the Peterson farm. What had happened to old Bird I have no recollection whatsoever.

Barney and Birdie, part 4 of 5

Horses typically sleep standing up — at least the farm animals I observed did. Barney and Birdie did lie down occasion however, especially Barney. When they had been working and sweaty, as during threshing, and were turned out into the barnyard they would lie down and roll their backs in the dust of the barnyard to ease their itching on backs and haunches. When they had done this for some time they would stand up and vigorously shake themselves to rid themselves of the dust and debris clinging to them.

Although bits and pieces of the times when I was driving Birdie and Barney or when I was involved in an activity in which they were being used (as, for example, during potato digging when they pulled the wagon into which the potatoes were dumped after being picked up from where the potato digger had deposited them on the ground, or in the rare times when corn was being picked by hand and they were pulling the wagon with its “bangboard” alongside the pickers, or when we were gleaning the ears left by the mechanical cornpicker) remain in my memory, my most detailed recollection is probably about the times when I was involved with them in the threshing operation.














Wagon with bangboard

Most of the time this was oats threshing, but Uncle Carl’s various farming ventures included such this as the growing of flax, or the recovery of hay seed, either from the tall-growing rank sweet clover to such lower growing varieties as alsike or red clover.



















Sweet clover















Alsike

These then involved threshing, with of course suitable change of scrums etc. in the threshing machine. I don’t recollect every threshing soybeans, although there may have been cases of this soon after they were introduced but before combines became more generally used. When we were first on the farm my father worked for Uncle Carl and one of the things he did was haul the oat bundles to the threshing machine. When he did this I was along to drive the wagon in the field, and of course in pulling the bundle rack up alongside the threshing machine. Later on after my father was working in the county treasurer’s office, a neighbor boy, Harlan Anderson, and I operated as a team on the bundle rack. Harlan was not a very vigorous worker on such tasks and I recall my uncle being displeased because we hadn’t loaded the bundle back sufficiently full. The hay/bundle rack that Uncle Carl had, had a greater carrying capacity than the racks used by some of the other farmers and I can remember feeling somewhat aggrieved that in effect I had to meet a high work standard than they did. A normal load on these smaller racks might by 400 oat bundles; I dimly recall counting over 500 on some of the loads I brought in from the field. During my later high school years I operated the bundle rack all by myself, or later still I was a “pitcher” in the field. A “pitcher” would stay out in the field all the time, going from one bundle rack to the next, helping the bundle hauler as he was finishing up his load. When I was working as a bundle-hauler the day would be a long one — up early to get the horses in, harnessed and over to the neighboring farms by about 8 a.m. At that I had an easier time of it than some farmers who had the other chores, such as milking, in addition. In my case, my father would take care of the milking while I was on the threshing crew. So the work day would start with the ride, of varying length, to the threshing location; the morning might be relatively cool but the mid and afternoon sun might be warm indeed.

In a normal threshing day there would be 4 loads for each hauler in the morning and a similar number in the afternoon. At noon, and again in late afternoon the horses would be unhitched from the wagon and haltered at the back of it (after having been led to the stock tank for water). There they would either eat of the oat bundles in the wagon or on some bundles saved for this purpose. While the horses were eating, the hauler too would be partaking of food, either the noon or supper meal — always a bountiful one. Before eating the men would wash up on washstands set up in the shade of the farmyard; threshing was dusty, hot, sweaty work and washing up in the cool cistern water was always a relief. After the noon meal the horses would have another drink of water and would then be reharness to the bundle rack for the afternoon’s work. In the evening they would also be similarly reharnessed for the leisurely drive home. Then it would be time to unharness the horses and turn them out for the night.













Bundle rack

Barney and Birdie, part 3 of 5

I guess that I remember Barney and Birdie most from such uses as pulling loads of corn during corn shelling from the farm to the elevator in Gowrie, pulling the bundle rack in oat harvest when I was a member of the threshing crew, or when I drove them during haying operations. Then I would drive straddling the windrow of hay, one horse on each side; behind me handling the hay as it came up the hay loaded at the back of the hay rack would be Uncle Carl along with whoever was helping him. I also drove Barney and Birdie as they pulled the hay role, which looped its way through the barn, connecting the sling which transported the hay up and into the barn and the double-tree to which the horses were harnessed.







Double tree

When pulling wagon loads of grain to Gowrie I was always instructed to take the route which had the lest graded road on it — even in the mid-’30s when we were first on the farm there was about 2 miles of the alternate road from the Peterson farm to Gowrie that was still ungraveled. The ungraveled road was thought to be easier on the horses’ feet which were unshod. I suppose in times past some of the horses on the farm were horse-shoed. I remember seeing a few rust horseshoes lying around — but Barney and Birdie never had any horseshoes on them when I was aware of the two of them.

I’m not sure just how old I was when I first was required to put the harness on the horses, but I suppose I was doing that by the time I was a sophomore or junior in high school. By that time my father was working in Fort Dodge in the county treasurer’s office and so it fell to me to do such tasks, as during the threshing season I was then a bundle hauler, either alone or along with a neighbor boy. The harness that we had was simpler and lighter than that used by some of the neighboring farmers but even so when I was first doing the harnessing it was a heavy task to throw it onto the horses. First would come the horse collar of course, then the rest of the main harness. Last would be the bridle. Barney for all he was a younger, more spirited animal and a male in addition accepted the bit and bridle more readily than the older and cagier Birdie. After Barney’s dying of sleeping sickness, Uncle Carl purchased an old black Shire of Vic Telleen. This horse had been the mother of a really superb team of horses that Vic had — my uncle Carl is said to have offered Vic $400 for the team but had been turned down. The horse’s name was Bird, and she really resisted taking the bit. I recall seeing older men introducing the bit right up against the edge of Bird’s teeth, but I was always frightened of doing so. How I managed I have no clear picture. Once the horses, still in the barn, had the harness on them, they were led out of the barn and the reins interconnected, etc. Finally the traces were attached to the double-tree of whatever implement they were to pull, after the yoke had been properly fitted to the tongue of the implement.

I’ve mentioned that Uncle Carl, while using Barney and Birdie when convenient, tended to regard them as inferior substitutes to his various tractors. When they were actively and continuously used they would receive an appropriate allotment of oats, grain and hay in the barn but at other times they were simply turned out into the barnyard and left to feed off the straw stack, for example. Even when they were actively being used they were always turned out of the barn at night. Sometimes the practice would necessitate a morning walk out into the pasture to bring them in for the day’s work. Some farmers would keep their horses in the barn at all times when they were not working but this was not the case with Uncle Carl. During the winter they would receive no feed other than what they could forage for themselves, either from the straw stack or corn stubble and most of the time their only shelter would be an open shed (open to the south that is) on the edge of the barnyard. The only exception to the latter in my recollection was during the two very cold winters of about ’34 and ’35. Then Uncle Carl called up from the house in town and instructed me to bring the horses into the barn — at least at night. It was during this time that one time I approached Barney on his blind (left) side in such a way as to scare him. He was haltered to the manger at the time and when he reared back he broke the halter. There was no spare halter around so I patched it up with some rope as best I could.

Barney and Birdie, part 2 of 5

Uncle Carl would also take care of minor treatment of Barney and Birdie. Doubtless the things he did had been learned over the years from my grandfather or from neighboring old-timers. I recall him trimming the hooves of Barney and Birdie, using a large pair of pincer-like tongs. And once or twice doctoring with some sort of salve a sore spot on a horse shoulder, from a misfitted horse collar. The salve came from a crude cupboard along the wall on the side of the barn that had once been totally devoted to the horses, but which now housed cows and calves as well. But generally he treated the horses as adjuncts to his tractor operations which by then had taken over many of the farm operations. And not only as adjuncts, and the relics of bygone days, but as a phase of farm culture that was inevitably drawing to a close. Uncle Carl had been using tractors for years, beginning with the large Hart Parrs in his threshing rigs. Later he had the smaller Hart Parrs, but these were the “work-horse” for such heavy work as plowing. And later he had his Farmall tractors. They took over cultivation of corn, discing, pulling the binder in oat harvest, etc. When we arrived on the farm he must have been cultivating corn with his Farmall for some time. I don’t recall seeing the remains of any two-row corn cultivators lying discarded around the farmstead, and a farm the size of the Peterson farm would have required the use of this larger equipment. Such equipment would require three or four horses, a further indication that Barney and Birdie were the remnants of previous farming practice.



















1930 Hart Parr tractor

So Barney and Birdie were used for such operations as could be done by a two-horse team — pulling the walking plow, pulling the “lumber” wagon or hay rack, the mower or hay rake, the manure spreader, the one-row cultivator (still used for such row crops as potatoes, or for occasional garden cultivation), the potato digger, or the rope pulling hay slings up and into the barn. Some of these I never was asked to do. I never for example used the walking plow behind Barney and Birdie, a seldom used operation by the time we were on the farm and relegated to such places as the garden areas, where the use of large tractor-drawn equipment would be inconvenient. But I well remember the trip into Gowrie behind Barney and Birdie pulling the spring wagon, carrying the walking plow for Uncle Carl to use in plowing the garden at grandmother’s house once it had arrived on the scene. The spring wagon was a light wagon used in times past for excursions to Gowrie from the farm, or I suppose various social events. Whether it once had a cover against rain or cold I don’t know — there was no evidence of it when I first encountered it. For that matter I don’t recall seeing any evidence of buggies lying around as forsaken junk on the Peterson farm — maybe they had been not in use for so long that they had disintegrated. I also was never required to drive Barney and Birdie while they pulled the mower, the hay rake or the manure spreader but I have a dim recollection that I used them with the one-row cultivator. I certainly assisted in helping load the old “New-Idea” manure spreader that Uncle Carl had (with old straw stack bottoms for example) but Uncle Carl always did the spreading.

New Idea manure spreader

Barney and Birdie, part 1 of 5

Barney and Birdie were the only two horses that I ever closely associated with. When I first encountered them, Barney, the younger of the two, was somewhere between 10 and 15 years of age, probably toward the lower end of this age range. However, my impression of his age was based on hearsay, the change comment of someone who had knowledge of his history, and at that not too clearly remembered by me. He was brown in color, and I’d guess he had considerable Percheron in his ancestry — at least his conformation resembled the pictures I have seen of this breed of horse. He was blind in his left eye. A gelding, he was still a quite vigorous horse, certainly better in this respect than Birdie who was older, and, also by hearsay, his mother. Birdie was long past the age when she would again produce offspring. Differently from Barney she had more the characteristics of a Shire — larger and clumsier hooves, and a more rugged and taller frame. Because of her age she was not the work horse Barney was. Like Barney she was brown in color.

















Percheron




















Shire

The two horses were probably the last survivors of the array of work horses that had been used on my grandfather Peterson’s farm. Not that my grandfather knew of them — he had died in the mid 1910s, and even Birdie was not likely to have been born by then. Thus they were the product of purchase or breeding by those of my uncles who had taken over the farm operation after his death. That would probably have been my uncles Carl and Serenus, though my uncle Laurence may have been involved. My uncle George, of uncertain health and physical capability, may have participated in the work of the farm on occasion but I doubt very much that he made any management decisions. My uncle Milton, the youngest of the five uncles, left the farm at a relatively early age for schooling and though I recall him mentioning to me that he had plowed with horses, I surmise that he never functioned extensively or intimately in the ongoing work of the farm. My uncle Laurence, until he decided on entering the Lutheran ministry, was probably headed for being an Iowa farmer and might well have been involved in one way or another with the earlier history of Barney and Birdie. The periods of time when the various uncles worked on or managed the Peterson farm is not clear in my mind, and now that they, and all the sisters, are deceased the times are largely lost to history. I do know that Uncle Serenus was living on the farm in the early 1920s, probably conducting his purebred hog operation and perhaps farming the land as well, in whole or in part. When he too left to enter the ministry my uncle Carl took over the cultivation of the farm I believe. After my uncle Serenus left the farm, the house was on occasion rented out, but whether the renter ever participated in the farm work I don’t know.

I believe my first encounter with Barney and Birdie was when I was just finished with the seventh grade at school. That was the summer that my parents moved our family from the house we lived in, in Gowrie, out to the Peterson farmstead which at the time was unoccupied. The move was made to accommodate the decline in the family income, the result of the depression of the ’30s. The moving of the family furniture was made in various farm wagons, those directly associated with the Peterson farm but also in addition some belonging to neighboring farmers. At least one of these wagons was doubtless drawn by Barney and Birdie as a team though at the time I’m sure I didn’t know them as specific horses.

I say that I believe this was my first encounter, inasmuch as I do have a sort of vague recollection that while we were still residing in Gowrie, my uncle Carl had me help him in a harrowing operation. I can sort of recall him coming to the house one evening and arranging for my help. I think the work was in connection with the preparation of some land he rented south of the Peterson farm and which he used for growing potatoes. He plowed, using one of his smaller Hart Parr tractors and I followed after with the harrow, pulled doubtless by Barney and Birdie. But at the time they were just horses; they certainly did not have the individual characters that they later came to have for me.

That Barney and Birdie were the tail end of a farming-with-horses era on the Peterson farm was emphasized by the harness that was used with them. Although there were fragments of harness hanging here and there in the farm — old horse collars, harness, bridles, etc. — which I suppose could have been assembled into a complete set of harness for a team, Barney and Birdie used the last complete set to all intents and purposes. I judged the harness to be one of the more elegant sets of previous times — the home ends were topped by ornamental brass bells for example. As the cruder sets of harness wore out, eventually the preserved remains of harness were used for more ornamental occasions became the harness for everyday work. Occasional repairs had to be made to the harness being used, reins would break, traces would come apart, etc. These repairs were made by uncle Carl in a rough and ready manner, typically with a couple of rivets to piece the loose ends together. Seeing him making this kind of repair suggested to me that this was the approved technique for harness repair — until I found out in the manual training class in my freshman year in high school that sewing was the recommended method.